ve the long
trapeze started in a long, pendulumlike swing by an attendant, and then
to leap down, catch hold of the bar with his hands, and swing up to the
other platform. If he missed catching the bar it meant a dangerous fall;
a fall into a net, it is true, but dangerous none the less. Its danger
can be judged when it is said that Wogand had died as an indirect result
of a fall into the net. He missed the trapeze, toppled into the net,
and, by some chance, did not land properly. His back was injured, his
spine became affected, and he died.

When circus performers on the high trapezes fall or jump into the safety
nets, they do not usually do it haphazardly. If they did many would be
killed. There is a certain knack and trick of landing in a net.

Joe Strong, ever having the interest of the circus at heart, had decided
to do this dangerous swing. He was an acrobat, as well as a stage
magician, and he had decided to take up some of his earlier acts which
had been so successful.

"But I wish he wouldn't," said Helen to herself. "I have a premonition
that something will happen." Helen was very superstitious in certain
ways.

But to all she said, Joe only laughed.

"I'm going to do the big swing," he replied simply.

CHAPTER III

TOO MANY PEOPLE

Hundreds of men toiling and sweating over stiff canvas and stiffer
ropes. The thud of big wooden sledge hammers driving in the tent stakes.
The rumble of heavy wagons, and a cloud of dust where they were being
shoved into place by the busy elephants.

On one edge of the big, vacant lot were wisps of smoke from the fires in
the stove wagons, and from these same wagons came appetizing odors.

Here and there men and women darted, carrying portions of their costumes
in their hands. Clowns, partly made up, looked from their dressing tents
to smile or shout at some acquaintance who chanced to be passing by.

All this was the Sampson Brothers' Circus in preparation for a day's
performance.

Joe Strong, having had a good breakfast, without which no circus man or
woman starts the day, strolled over to where Helen Morton was just
finishing her morning meal.

"Feeling all right?" he asked her.

"Well, yes, pretty well," she answered.

"What's the matter?" asked Joe quickly, as he detected an under note of
anxiety in the girl's voice. "Is your star horse, Rosebud, lame or off
his feed?"

"Oh, no," she answered. "It's just--Oh, here comes Mother Watson, and I
promi